


It’s Santa, Baby

by Klayr_de_Gall



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Billy in a skirt, Billy is horny, Billy loves a good big dick, Christmas Smut, Crossdressing, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Idiots as lovers, M/M, Praise Kink, Steve is done, bottom!billy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21743851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klayr_de_Gall/pseuds/Klayr_de_Gall
Summary: Coming up one floor to knock at Steve's door was a bad idea. But coming up here wearing a santa hat and only dressed in a short red velvet skirt, fluffy white trimm tickling against his bare legs, had been the absolute stupidest idea ever.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 19
Kudos: 217
Collections: Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2019





	It’s Santa, Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abaddxns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abaddxns/gifts).



> I really hope you like it! I tried to take as many of your tags as possible into consideration, but everything did run a little bit away with me! Hopefully Billy jingling his bells makes your Holidays brighter! Merry Christmas!
> 
> All thanks to [gideongrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gideongrace/pseuds/gideongrace) for editing💙

It’s clearly a stupid idea.

Billy is aware of this. Had been aware of it from the start. But he's still standing outside of Harrington’s fucking dorm room in the freezing hallway, his balls starting to feel like they might fall right off from the damn cold. Whoever had signed off on not having the heat run outside the rooms in the fucking middle of the fucking Indiana winter is nuts! Billy only needs a name and he's going to wring that guy's neck!

_@KingDong_

_08:16pm_

_-where the hell are u?-_

_-?????-_

_\- im freezing to death -_

_08:17pm_

_\- fuck you harrington, im dead now -_

Cussing at the closed door, Billy goes w to put his phone back into his jeans pocket only to have it clatter to the floor. Right. That. 

Coming up one floor to knock at Steve's door was a bad idea. But coming up here wearing a santa hat and only dressed in a short red velvet skirt, fluffy white trim tickling against his bare legs, had been the absolute stupidest idea ever. The skirt - that had been a dress that Billy had had to cut because no way would he have ever fit into that tiny upper part - was a tight fit, way too tight to sit comfortably on his hips. No amount of pulling it down could stop it from sneaking back up to his waist, exposing the bottom part of his currently goosebumped ass and the tip of his dick. Because of course, half the fun had been going commando under this.

Still muttering under his breath, Billy bends down to pick up his stupid phone when he hears a quiet gasp behind him. Of course, after hammering against Harrington's door for ten minutes, the guy had to show up the moment he was presenting his uncovered ass.

“What the hell, Harrington!”

Feeling flushed about showing his essentials around, Billy falls back to anger, snarling at Steve who is standing a few feet away by the stairs, dumbfounded and blushing up to his hair. It's probably lucky the idiot hasn't dropped the bottle of red wine he's currently clutching. Shattering that would make a nasty mess, and Billy is not here to play clean up.

“Where the fuck have you been? We said eight pm, dipshit! Not eight-twenty!”

That Billy had waited that long at all in this outfit, exposed in the antarctic-like hallway is a small miracle. But he does know for a fact that Steve and himself are the only two students staying in their dorm building over Christmas. Going home to his asshole of a father was a hard no, not after Billy had finally been able to cut all ties and leave for good. Max would fly over for New Years and that was about all the family he needed. 

Harrington, who had been face first into a pillow when they had had that conversation, had muttered something about his parents not being home anyway and having a Christmas party on the 25th with friends and if Billy would want to - and Billy had chosen that moment to drive hard into Steve’s tight hole, shutting him up. The hell would he let his fucking booty-call finish that sentence.

But they had still made plans to meet up on Christmas Eve. Billy had only somewhat reluctantly agreed, but when Steve had sent him a sad, puppy-eyed selfie, Billy had been sold. The next pic, a candid shot of Harrington's massive dick had sealed the deal.

“Sorry. You are never on time and- anyway! What the hell are you wearing?”

Steve has been unable to take his eyes away from the little piece of fabric Billy's wearing that barely covers anything and it makes Billy feel powerful. It's the same feeling he has when he shows up in class in his tightest jeans, sitting right in front of Harrington or when he shows up to a party bare chested, with only his heavy leather jacket as a layer of decency and _accidentally_ stumbles into Harrington in the kitchen.

“What, you don’t recognize a hot skirt when you see one? Damn, you are so gay, Harrington.”

The moment the words slip out, Billy knows that he's fucked up. Steve’s warm brown eyes harden, his plush lips pressing into a thin line. For half a second he seems close to hurling the bottle of wine at Billy.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, Hargrove.”

The brunette shoves past him and jams the key into the lock like he's planning to stab it to death, impatiently forcing the door to open. Billy barely manages to shove his foot between the rapidly closing door and the frame and sends a small _thank you_ to his past self that had cockily thought his combat boots looked way sexier than going in socks.

Grunting, Steve struggles with the door, shooting Billy a dark look through the crack before abruptly pulling the door back.

Thrown off his footing by the sudden lack of pressure, Billy nearly trips while stumbling into Harrington's messy dorm room. The space is noticeably bigger than Billy’s, with Harrington living on the upper floor with the more wealthy bastards. Not that it matters much. Steve is chaotic at heart, even more so after his girlfriend had broken it. Not that Billy would know anything about that. They were just fucking like bunnies whenever they happened to run into each other or were bored or couldn’t sleep. Why would he ever go around and ask - say Tommy H. - about the reason for Steve Harrington's sad puppy eyes.

Ignoring Billy now, Steve is plugging in his electric kettle, filling some of the wine into it and adding some spices, apparently getting creative with making mulled wine. The brunette has his back to him and Billy can see how tense he is, shoulders drawn high, royally pissed off. Nothing much to do about it for now, so Billy just closes the door behind himself. Harrington had learned early on into their arrangement that nothing got a better rise out of Billy then ignoring him, but Billy has gotten better at being patient, at waiting for the other man to calm back down after whatever got his hackles up. And that was happening less and less.

So he waits as nonthreatening and nonassholeishly as possible. It’s not the easiest task, because that’s all a really big part of Billy's personality, but a man can try. The way he is standing, Billy has a nice visual of himself in the full length mirror hanging from the closet. Swinging his hips in a contented motion, transfixed by the soft sway of the fabric, he can also observe what Steve is doing behind him, how he shuts off the kettle before the wine can start to boil and lose the alcohol, how he gets two mugs out and fills them both, but only takes one with him to his desk chair.

If that isn’t an invitation, Billy doesn't know one. He abandons his narcissistic starring and grabs the black mug from the sideboard. The one he always uses whenever he's over, the one that slowly reveals a drawing of a cartoonish kitten whenever it’s filled with a hot beverage.

He circles around Steve and makes himself at home on top of the desk, pushing himself up to sit on it and reaching for the backrest of the chair. He swings Harrington around and pulls him in in the same motion, the rolling wheels of the chair gliding smoothly over the wooden floor. Because Steve is still not looking at him, Billy also gets his feet up on the chair, tugs them in at both sides of the other man's hips. The loose fabric of the skirt dips between Billy’s parted legs, barely covering the essentials. He is practically offering himself to Harrington - and wow, his dick seems to be really interested in that idea, if the sudden kick against his thigh is anything to go by.

And Steve is still bullheadly, stubbornly not looking at him.

“Harrington.”

No reaction.

“Steve.” 

Not even a blink.

“Princess~”

Only a minimal tightening of plush, red lips. Seems like Billy has to get out the big guns.

“C’mon, King Steve,” his voice is a sultry purr. “Don’t you want to unwrap your present?” 

Steve’s brown doe eyes snap to his. They are sharp and calculating - Billy is still not forgiven. But he knows which buttons to press, knows what gets Harrington’s heart pumping and it is not above him to use some dirty tricks.

With an innocent smile and a wink Billy reaches for Steve’s hand, the one currently not holding any mulled wine and places it against his bare thigh. The fingertips are a warm contrast to his cool, exposed skin. Billy bites his lower lip and shifts a little, spreading his legs a bit wider.

“Was thinking about you when I got the skirt, bambi.”

Billy pushes the slowly warming fingers further up his thigh with no participation from Harrington. But the brunette isn’t pulling his hand away either and his pupils look way more dilated then they had a minute before.

“Got so hard imagining how you would hitch it up my thighs, how it would tickle my balls when you strip me out of it. How you would bend me over and fuck me. Hmmm~ deep and hard, just the way I love it. Shit, I had to jerk off in a changing stall, it got me so fucking hot.”

The way Harrington just lifts his mug and takes a nonchalant sip is destroyed by how he pulls a face a moment later, tongue burned from not paying attention to the hot wine. Steve's long and strong fingers press into the flesh of Billy's inner thigh, fingertips traveling far enough to brush against the white fur trim and sending a little tingle up Billy's spine.

“Wanted you there with me, princess. Wanted you to press me up against that paper thin wall and fuck every inch of your gorgeous cock into me. Wanted you to hold my mouth shut to keep me from screaming."

“Jesus…” Steve sounds a bit breathless.

The way Steve sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down, cheeks slightly flushed and ears burning, has Billy deciding that they definitely should do that next time. That he should drag Harrington out to get him a decent shirt that isn’t screaming _‘preppy rich kid’_ and get dicked down good where every saleswoman and every customer could just walk by and hear him whimper.

“Thinking about my dick in you often, Hargrove?”

Harrington is still looking up into his eyes, still a bit bitchy about Billy’s stupid remark, but Billy will take that, because regardless of his mood Steve slides his pale hand higher without needing any more coaxing, slipping it under the velvet of the skirt. He brushes his fingertips up against the crest of his thigh to his hip, lingering, massaging. The promise of what’s to come makes Billy harden even more, tenting the red fabric without revealing anything. The fur rubs up against his tip, a sensation that is way more maddening then Billy ever had imagined, punching a hot exhale from his lungs.

“Yeah,” he purrs, wiggling his hips a little in suggestion. “Love your dick, _King_ Steve.”

His former High School rival is a lot of things, but a prude in bed is not one of them. And Billy had been a goner for that particular talent since he unexpectedly had run into Harrington at the same college and had discovered why the girls called him “King Steve”. Not only was Harrington hung as hell, he also knows how to work his hips just so and has just enough resentment left against Billy to go a bit harder, a bit faster, a bit meaner. Just how Billy loves it.

To reward him for his sweet talking, Steve finally curls his fingers around his already throbbing erection.

Billy doesn’t even try to muffle the soft moan that rolls over his lips, way too worked up already. He'd been horny and needy for Steve's attention since he got the skirt as a last minute idea yesterday. Unthinkable that his big mouth had nearly ruined the evening.

It’s brainmelting how fucking good Steve’s hand feels, how they have done this so many times that Steve knows exactly how to twist his wrist on the upstroke, how to swipe his thumb in a quick, rough circle over the tip of Billy’s dick, smearing precome, before rubbing down again with a fist that is nearly too tight, that makes Billy’s eyes water and his toes curl in his boots.

“I don’t think I want to unwrap my present.” Steve’s eyes are impossibly dark. “I want to fuck you in the skirt.”

The way Harrington says it, all hungry and raw, shortcuts Billy’s brain. He presses forward and slips from the desk into Steve's lap, who has the presence of mind to grab both of their hot mugs and place them a safe distance away, before their lips connect in a searing, hungry kiss. It’s more teeth and spit than anything nice, as everything with them is and Billy wouldn't want it any other way. He might whimper like a bitch in heat while he ruts against Harrington’s jean-clad lap, but he loves that too, loves what a sweaty, hot mess Steve can reduce him to with his hands and lips alone.

They make out for a while, Steve holding him close, Billy’s hands are fisted into Steve's soft, brown hair. The desk chair groans and squeaks under their combined weight. As Billy gets more enthusiastic he nearly topples them over, so Steve shoves him off with a reluctant groan.

He follows Billy onto his feet and into another kiss immediately, then manhandles him forward instead into the middle of the dorm room. 

“Stay.” It’s spoken soft, but it's still a command that Steve purrs against his lips and then his warmth against Billy’s back is gone. 

Whatever Harrington has in mind already has Billy panting for it while he watches the other man rummage around in the bedside drawer for lube. They probably have to get some new lube soon, if the squirting sounds the bottle makes are any indication. With a careless motion, Steve tosses the lube onto his bed, rubbing his fingers together to warm the substance up.

“If you don’t speed up, I’ll fall asleep.” Billy can’t resist the urge to mock him, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip in an obscene gesture. 

“Turn around,” Steve says.

Billy has half a mind to resist, to play the annoying brat and get a rise out of the brunette, but before he can make that decision, lube slick hands grab his hips and _make_ him and shit if that’s not already perfect and - _oh_.

Heat creeps up Billy's neck as he stares into the whole-length mirror in front of them. He looks like a mess. Hair tangled and wild, body flushed and sweaty. His eyes zero in on the barely covered erection that tents the skirt in a downright dirty way, leaving nothing to the imagination. There is a wet patch slowly growing on the fabric.

Pressing against his back, Steve’s fist circles his cock again, stroking torturously slowly.

“Shit, you look pretty, baby,” he purrs into Billy's ear, mouthing at the skin behind it. “Wanna watch you.”

Steve's eyes lock with his in the mirror. His pupils are blown and huge, still, the question is clear: ‘Is that okay? Do you want it?’ It’s typical Harrington, having to make sure it’s still good every now and then, especially with them trying something new. Billy wants to roll his eyes, but honestly, he appreciates it. So he nods. Once. 

Steve's teeth close around his earring, making Billy hiss. It’s a sensitive point and he doesn't always likes someone to play with it, but when he opens his mouth to cuss Harrington out, a low moan is punched from his lungs instead when two finger push into him to the first knuckle.

“Fuck!”

“Hmm~ That’s the idea.” 

Steve laughs behind him, smartass that he is. Billy tries to elbow him in the chest for that stupid joke, but apparently he's predictable like that because Steve catches his wrist and brings it behind Billy’s back, effectively securing him upright against his warm, strong chest. To accommodate the new position, Billy has to bend his spine and the fingers sink even deeper into him.

Already out of breath, fighting for some composure, Billy’s eyes fall shut and he gulps for air, not getting any when the two digits curl inside him, finding _that_ spot expertly. It should concern him how well Steve knows his body, knows where he's the most sensitive and how to drive him wild, but Billy has to concentrate on his wobbling knees instead so that they don't give out.

“No. Eyes open.” 

The rumble in Steve’s voice sends another shiver down his back, his dick giving an interested twitch while the other man keeps talking. “God… the way you look in that skirt. Can’t believe you got it just for me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Harrington.”

“Hmm~ No. Letting it go to my dick.”

Another sudden twist of the fingers has Billy bucking his hips, mouth falling open. He can’t miss the way his body shudders and twists in Steve’s grip, completely at his mercy. The mirror paints an obscene picture. Billy looks… wrecked. Overheated red cheeks, the blush spreading down his waxed chest, a curl stuck to his forehead and the rest slowly tumbling out of the bun he had put his hair into not an hour before. His eyes are blown wide and are impossibly dark, watching the precome drip from under the skirt. 

Behind him, Steve is still fully dressed, fully in control of the situation. Being on display like that chokes him with vulnerability and he thrums with the need to lash out, to somehow - to -

“Billy.”

Steves grip around his arm tightens, twisting in a way that doesn't hurt, just reminds him that he is in capable hands. Hands he trusts enough to take him apart.

“That’s it,” Steve purrs, rubbing his cheek against Billy’s hair. “Just relax for me. You're doing so good, baby.”

Slowly a third finger sinks in. Billy can feel the stretch, the delicious burn. Exactly the way he loves it, exactly the way all sex with Steve is. It’s easy to lose himself in the feeling of getting opened up on those strong, long fingers, letting all other thoughts vanish into the background. He starts to grind back, wanting more, wanting Steve inside him.

“I’m ready.” Billy’s voice is a needy groan. “C’mon, princess. Want your dick. Want it to burn.”

“Jesus.”

The moment Steve's fingers leave, Billy nearly regrets his demands, his hole fluttering around nothing, feeling empty all of the sudden. It doesn’t take any manhandling, just a soft coaxing push to have him clamber onto the bed, getting on his hands and knees. Steve gasps audibly at the view and Billy can’t resist a flirty wink and wiggle of his hips, making the skirt swing and brush against the skin of his thighs.

“Going to stare all night, Stevie? Getting kinda bored here.”

Steve huffs and the bed dips behind Billy; warm, strong hands rubbing up his thighs.

“Always in a hurry. Let me appreciate the view, god damnit.”

The words are accompanied by a pinch to the swell of his ass, soothed over by a warm caress. Billy can hear Steve strip, some rustling of discarded clothes, the opening of a zipper. The anticipation builds, makes his heartbeat double up. Harrington is all for going right to town, giving him a good and hard fucking from the start, so the sudden soft touch against his hole is neither expected nor something he is used too. His body sways forward on its own accord and Billy needs a few seconds to figure out what the soft brush is that rubs against his sensitive rim.

“Shit, Steve… What the fuck?”

Steve does it again, rubs whatever it is up against his fluttering hole and Billy bites his lip hard to keep a high pitched moan in. Realization hits and he swears, digging his fingers into the mattress. The fur-trim. Harrington is using the fucking fur-trim to tickle and touch him. Billy’s arms give out and he sinks face first into the pillow, curling his spine in a perfect curve. The sensation is nerve-wracking, rising goosebumps all over his body, punching needy little gasps from him. With every soft brush and touch, his body seems to be lit on fire, all his sensitive nerves singing. It’s the only point of contact between them, and Billy zeros in on it, curls his toes. Shit. He could probably come from this. A drop of sweat runs down his back. He is shuddering with every light sensation, every single little touch of the soft and fluffy fur to his very sensitive pucker. Steve drives him mad with it, not letting up. Suffocating himself into the pillow only makes it worse and Billy rearranges himself to lay his cheek against a patch of cool fabric. He is dimly aware that he might be drooling, his lips bitten raw and slack.

When Steve finally sinks his dick into him without any warning, Billy actually screams.

A bruising grip on his hips is the only thing that holds him up while Steve fucks into him deep and slow. He feeds his long, throbbing cock to Billy’s hole inch by maddening inch, the oversensitive rim catching on every vein and ridge, only stopping when he is flush with Billy’s ass just to pull back out and start over again. And again. And again. Billy can only take it and takes it gladly, grinding back and working around the delicious stretch.

“Fuck. Baby. You are so good for me. You’re gorgeous,” Steve can’t talk dirty to save his life but loves to pour praises over Billy’s skin, loves to let him know how perfect he feels, split open on his cock, like he was made only for him. It makes Billy’s ears burn bright red, but he drinks all of it up greedily, shudders as much with the praising words as with every brush against his prostate.

Reaching for his hand, Steve slips his fingers between Billy’s and tangles them together and it’s so soft and intimate and so overwhelmingly much, that Billy just - Billy just comes. His back goes rigid as his orgasm is ripped out of him, gasping and shaking, while Steve fucks him through it, never picking up speed, never losing his rhythm. It goes on for so long that Billy’s vision starts to swim. Whenever the tide feels like it might finally pass, Steve hits his sweet spot again _just so_ , sends another shockwave of pleasure through his body.

Finally, when it gets to be too much, his hips twitch downwards and he's wiggling to get away. Steve pulls out to let him breathe, flipping Billy onto his back a moment later.

“You okay?” 

Rolling his eyes because the question is typically ridiculous, Billy pulls Steve into a breathless kiss, licking into the mouth that opens for him - or to talk some more, god forbid. He kisses Steve like he would be dying otherwise, gripping his hair to keep him right where Billy wants him. The moment Billy hocks on leg over Harrington’s waist, the other man sinks back into him with a groan, having waited for permission like the good boy he is.

Steve starts to pound into him in earnest, pushing Billy into the mattress with every thrust. His eyes are nearly black, just a honey brown circle highlighting them, his floppy hair sticking to his forehead all sweaty and wild. It always curls his toes when Steve starts to just take, to just search for his own pleasure. Billy loves the feeling of being used in the most satisfying way. His body twists and twitches, too sensitive to just take it and it forces tears to Billy's eyes and a whimper from his lips.

“C’mon, princess.Want you to fill me up. Want your cum, King Steve.”

He runs his hand over Steve's face, Steve’s neck, rubbing between his shoulder blades and down, down his spine, scratching at his tailbone for a moment, before he sinks a sticky finger into his hole. That’s all it takes for Steve to bury himself deep and spill with a deep and breathy moan. Unable to stop watching Steve’s bliss slack face, Billy probes at his prostate, milking every drop of cum, relishing in every little twitch and buck of Steve's hips while he slowly comes down.

Finally, he just faceplants into Billy’s chest, forcing the breath from both of them, smearing the mess between their bodies even worse.

“Ugh, move.” 

Billy wants to be mean about it, pushing at Harrington's head and shoulders, but he feels too satisfied and fucked out to actually play the part well. Steve gives a soft chuckle and has the nerve to actually roll his hips, still sheathed fully into Billy’s oversensitive body. It makes Billy gasp and shudder.

“Out! You smartass!”

Swallowing down a whimper when the slowly softening cock finally slips out of him, Billy sinks more comfortably back against the pillow. He can feel cum leak out of him, dribbling down his crack and his thighs. With a pull on Steve's hair, he gets the brunette dragged up enough to kiss him on the cheek, smiling real sweet.

“Clean that up for me, will you, princess?”

It’s hard not to watch Harington licking down his filthy chest like it is the most delicious brand of candy he has ever tasted, so Billy doesn’t try, instead he tracks his every move. Steve cleans him up with soft, long licks while running his fingers over the fabric of the skirt, marveling at how soft the velvet feels against his fingertips. Billy gets it, had done the same while standing in the shop, had picked this skirt over the silken one for exactly this reason.

Still, he does not expect Steve to grab his semi-interested erection through the fabric and start to _stroke_.

“Fuck!”

Warm brown eyes snap up to his from between his legs, but Steve continues to kiss down the V of his hips and starts to lick his own cum out of Billy’s ass while torturing him with the too soft, too rough drag of the fabric against his slowly filling dick. It has Billy whine low in his throat, sending a full-body shudder through him.

The second orgasm doesn’t take long to build up, a hot coil sitting low against Billy’s spine. He is too exhausted to fight it off and make it last, bending his back up from the bed and drenching the skirt with his release while breathing Steve's name like a prayer. The fabric darkens with his cum, a few drops even seeping through.

With a satisfied smile, Harrington gives his twitching pucker one last lick while Billy slowly comes down from his high, breathing still laboured and fast.

“That was… interesting.” Steve curls around him and Billy lets it happen, doesn’t even try to tell himself that the closeness is just so Harrington doesn’t need to lie in the wet, messy patch they've made.

“Maybe I should put on stockings for you next time, princess.”

He runs a hand through the sweaty, brown hair, getting a contented hum in return. Harrington is tapping some rhythm against his hip, soft fingertips dancing warm across his sticky skin. He just hopes it’s not some fucking Christmas song.

“Maybe,” Steve purrs and leans up for a soft kiss. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> l had way more fun with this then I imagined in the beginning XD Billy in a skirt wasn’t even one of my kinks, and now look at me.  
> Merry Christmas to all of you! <3


End file.
